


Are You Lonesome Tonight?

by operatorhappypills



Category: Masters of Sex
Genre: Cuban Missile Crisis, F/M, Historical References, Trying Times call for Sexy Times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 06:56:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11374941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/operatorhappypills/pseuds/operatorhappypills
Summary: Bill and Virginia deal with the Cuban Missile Crisis.





	1. October 22, 1962

**Author's Note:**

> I started watching Masters of Sex last summer and was so bummed when it was canceled. This is my first time writing fic for this pairing, so this is just a test run for now. There will be 3 chapters total, spanning three days: October 22-24, 1962, and perhaps an epilogue.

" _...But now further action is required-and it is underway; and these actions may only be the beginning. We will not prematurely or unnecessarily risk the costs of worldwide nuclear war in which even the fruits of victory would be ashes in our mouth-but neither will we shrink from that risk at any time it must be faced..._ "  
The President's voice echoes throughout the Masters's home. The statement causes Libby to look up from her sewing, ceasing the activity.

  
"Mom, it's not fair that Jenny is being Wilma for Halloween. Wilma is Fred's wife! My sister can't be my wife for Halloween," Johnny grumbles from his seat on the living room floor.

"Johnny, I already sewed her costume and I'm almost done with your's. And I just bought your masks."  
  
Johnny starts, "Yes, but —"  
  
"Hush, honey," Libby cuts him off, setting her sewing work down and standing up. Libby moves towards the television set, turning the volume knob so John F. Kennedy's voice becomes even louder.  
  
" _...Should these offensive military preparations continue, thus increasing the threat to the Hemisphere, further action will be justified. I have directed the Armed Forces to prepare for any eventualities; and I trust that in the interests of both the Cuban people and the Soviet technicians at the sites, the hazards to all concerned of continuing this threat will be recognized..._ "  
  
Concerned, Libby furrows her brows, taking a quick glance at Johnny to see if he's processing any of this. Johnny is watching the screen, but eventually casts his attention back down on his erector set and the bridge he is diligently building, his sandy brown hair falling over his forehead.  
  
"Bill, are you listening to this?" Libby calls out over her shoulder. Bill replies back with a non-committal grunt, too consumed in the data at his desk, or perhaps uninterested in the goings-on surrounding the TV.   
  
Libby's frown changes into a small smile, and crouching down next to Johnny she puts her hand affectionately on his head. "We're having an early bedtime tonight. Why don't you take your erector set to your room and you can finish it tomorrow after you finish your homework?"  
  
Johnny's mouth opens again for another protest. "No buts," Libby says before kissing him on his forehead. "Go. I'll be there soon to tuck you in."  
  
Glowering, John carefully picks up his unfinished bridge and walks down the small set of stairs in front of the bar. He stops in front of Bill.  
  
"Goodnight, dad."  
  
Bill doesn't take his eyes off the papers strewn in front of him, "Goodnight."  
  
Bill remains oblivious to the way John's shoulders sag when he disappears down the hallway. A few minutes later, Libby's hand appearing on Bill's desk breaks him out of his concentration. Bill cranes his neck to look up at her, pushing his glasses up with his fingers.  
  
Libby is slightly wide-eyed. "Should we be worried? Do you want me to call your mother?"  
  
"What for?" Bill asks, perplexed.   
  
"The president just gave an address saying that nuclear war with the Soviet Union is a real possibility."  
  
"I heard some of it. Maternity did a presentation about nuclear war back in 1957 and we even had to do a practice drill one day. It was ridiculous. The most frightening aspect of it was when Virginia initially quit. I, uh, had to worry about finding someone suitable to hire."  
  
A beat. There's a pensive look on Bill's face, but Libby's worry hasn't abated.  
  
Quietly, Libby says, "Yes, but this is the President of the United States coming on the television to notify us, not Chancellor Fitzhugh of Maternity Hospital."  
  
Bill sighs. "I don't think President Kennedy would be announcing this news if he wasn't certain he didn't have control of the situation. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to review these case files for tomorrow's patients."  
  
Libby stares at Bill for a moment before moving. Seconds later, the lights are flicked off and Bill is surrounded by darkness, save for the lamp at his desk.

 

* * *

  
  
A few blocks down, Virginia sets her (now empty) glass of wine down on the coffee table in front of her, mindful of not letting the case files in her lap spill forward. She opens another folder and tries to concentrate on the words in front of her and only ends up re-reading the same sentences over again. Virginia bites her lip, looking around her empty house. Letting out a frustrated sigh, she puts her case files next to her glass on the table.

She was undeterred by the drills at Maternity, even laughing at the memory of Jane taking her assigned role so seriously. But this was different. Cuba is not as far away as the Soviet Union is. There could be another World War. Virginia untucks her legs out from under her and gets up from the couch. Bending over, she clicks her television set off — the disappearance of noise making the house feel bigger — and wearily walks towards the stairs, but pauses before going up them.   
  
She entertains the idea of going out to bar and finding a man to bring back to her house.

_It'd be better than going upstairs to an empty bed._

Another sigh. She turns the lights off and chooses the empty bed.


	2. October 23, 1962

"The McKeons canceled this morning," Betty states matter-of-factly, staring up at Bill and Virginia from her desk.

Bill pulls back the sleeve of his coat and looks at his watch. "OK. Who is the next appointment? The Doyles? Maybe we can see if they'd be amenable to coming in early."

Betty shakes her head and clicks her tongue, "Nope. They canceled too. They said something about needing to stock up their fallout shelter."

Furrowing his eyebrows, Bill turns away and lets out an exasperated sigh, "Did all of our patients cancel this morning?"

"No, just the first two couples so far," Betty reveals, unperturbed.

"I trust you re-scheduled them, then?"

Betty looks at Bill deadpan and cocks her head. Virginia moves forward and rests her hand on the desk and offers Betty a small smile, diffusing the situation.

"Betty, would you mind calling our other patients for the day and letting them know that we are still open today and are looking forward to seeing them?"

Betty's eyes move from Bill, who is still slightly scowling, to Virginia.

"Sure thing."

Virginia mouthes a 'thank you' as both she and Bill pick up their briefcases and start walking together to their respective offices.

Bill leans towards her and mutters, "This is utterly ridiculous. You know our patient list is growing every day. It's starting to take weeks to get an appointment. Why would they cancel? Although Kennedy wasn't my first choice, he seems very capable of handling this threat. Besides, panicking only makes it worse."

Virginia considers this for a moment before replying, "I do understand it, though. It may be hard to concentrate in sensate therapy if you're thinking about how the world may end."

"All the more reason to treat one's sexual dysfunction, isn't it?"

Virginia only offers Bill a wan smile.

"Bill, in the meanwhile, I'm going to help Betty review the finances. Lester mentioned something the other day about reorganizing the intake tapes since he moved spaces. Maybe you could help him with that?"

Virginia turns and walks to her office, leaving no opportunity for a protest. There's a detectable shift in Virginia's demeanor though and Bill wonders if he said something wrong.

* * *

 

A few hours later, when it's close to lunchtime, Bill pokes his head out of his office and wanders out to Betty's desk. He shoves his hands in his pockets, pretending to look at something on her desk, but throwing glances through Virginia's office windows. She's focused on reading whatever papers are in front of her, and she hasn't said a word to him directly since their conversation when they first arrived.  
He can't say he particularly likes the location of Virginia's new office. It's closer to his, and all they need to do is walk through the door that connects their rooms, but he can't see her anymore. Not that he used to spend his work days leering at her, but sometimes it was soothing to just look up and see her there...

  
A thick Chicago accent breaks him out of his reverie, "Do I need to get a 'no soliciting' sign up here?"

"It's not soliciting if I own this whole office space, Betty...I was just, uh, wondering if Virginia said anything to you about lunch. I was thinking about running to the deli down the street..."

Betty just rolls her eyes. "Do I also need to spell it out for you, Doc?"

Bill squints his eyes in confusion, "What—"

"She's worried about the situation in Cuba, maybe even afraid. As most people are. It's got nothing to do with ya."

Bill swallows quickly and nods his head while mulling this over in his brain.

_She didn't seem shaken by the nuclear fallout presentation or drills at Maternity. Although, there were a lot of other things going on at the time..._

  
"Now, if you weren't making that deli trip up, I suggest you do it quickly. Your next patients will be here soon."

  
"...Thank you, Betty," Bill murmurs before going to retrieve his lab coat.

It's already 6:30 pm before Virginia softly slips in through the door that connects their offices. Bill is almost half-expecting her to cancel their Park Plaza meeting tonight since she seemed so quietly upset throughout the entirety of the day. He tries to conjure up excuses as to why they would absolutely need to meet tonight, beyond his own prurient desires. Their next meeting day, Thursday, seemed too far away. It was going to be a long, slow week. He takes off his reading glasses and looks at Virginia, trying not to let his vision wander down to the expanse of her hips, lest it makes him even more disappointed in what she's about to say.

  
"Bill, I was thinking: I have no clue what the traffic will be like on the way to the Park Plaza..."

  
Here it comes.

  
"We could grab a bite at the diner downstairs and then head over to my hou—"

"Yes."

The word comes out before Bill could even process that what Virginia was suggesting wasn't what he was expecting to hear. He clears his throat, his bow tie suddenly too tight and he extends his neck up, jutting his chin, in an effort to alleviate the pressure he suddenly feels there.

  
"Yes, that would be acceptable. Henry and Tessa are...?"

  
Virginia sighs, "I only get them every Saturday. George is very insistent on adhering to that."

  
"I see," Bill looks at his watch and then, "Well, I am all done here if you are. I just need to phone Libby and let her know I'll be working late tonight."

  
The quickest flash of guilt, or maybe shame, appears in Virginia's eyes but she nods her head nonetheless. Huh.

  
"I'll just get my things and meet you by the front desk, then."

  
Bill stands up and picks up the handset, excitement buzzing in him, and the swishing of the rotary phone adds to his nerves. After four rings, Libby finally picks up the phone.  
"Libby, it's Bill."

  
Unnerved, Libby exclaims, "Oh, Bill, thank God. You're about to leave work, aren't you? Johnny came home from school today and told me they were doing duck-and-cover drills at school today. He's a smart boy -- he knows that something is wrong, he can see it in me. And Jenny is only five, so she's unaware of what's going on, but I think you should just try to reassure them both, as their father..."

  
"Actually, I, uh, was calling to tell you that I'll be working late. You know Virginia and I are trying to start on the draft for the book and if we're ever going to meet the deadline we set, we'll need to start pulling more late nights..."

  
There's a perceptible shift in Libby's tone. "I know you usually work late on Mondays and Thursdays, but it can't wait? Just this one night?"

Bill is already organizing his desk, packing things in his briefcase.

  
"Libby, stop being fatalistic. The boy is 7, he can't know that much. They do duck-and-cover drills in the event of earthquakes, too, and it's highly unlikely St. Louis will ever incur a major one. Just keep calm, everything will be fine."

  
Silence.

  
"Fine."

  
Libby very nearly slams the receiver down. Pinching the bridge of his nose and exhaling, Bill hangs up the phone himself. He grabs his briefcase and his coat hanging on the rack behind him before joining Virginia in the lobby.

  
"Is everything alright?" Virginia asks him, not being able to meet his eyes.

  
"Yes. Ready?" Bill moves to open the lobby door and holds it open for her. As she walks past him, Bill eyes the zipper on the back of her pencil dress, feeling suddenly anxious to get to her house.

* * *

 

The low humming of his car engine to assuage the own humming of his nerves. If anything, it makes it worse. Ray Charles's song "Ruby" is playing on the radio, and although it isn't as grating as the hit "I Can't Stop Loving You" of his that's been playing non-stop the entire year, Bill switches it off nonetheless. He needs as much silence as possible so he can concentrate on repressing the memory of the last time when he visited her house, expecting comfort and instead getting...well, a punch to the gut.

  
They're both parked in front of Virginia's townhouse before he knows it and as he climbs out of his car, he puts the hood over just in case the weather doesn't intend to hold up.

  
_Then again, if a nuclear bomb does drop, it wouldn't really matter, would it? Uranium can't be good for leather seats either._

  
Virginia leads the way to her front door, and the inside of her house is much warmer than the chilly October air outside that was biting at Bill's cheeks. Virginia takes his briefcase out of his hand and sets it in the corner by the stairs, and when they both take off their coats, it feels oddly domestic, like a husband and wife returning home after dinner.

  
They sort of stand in front of each other for a moment, uncertain of what to do or how to proceed. Finally, Bill brings his hand up to Virginia's cheek, cupping it. They lock eyes for a moment and then his eyes trail down to her mouth, drawing him in. Virginia licks her lips — an invitation. He plants a light kiss on her bottom lip, gauging her reaction but instead of kissing him in return, Virginia removes his hand with her own and leads him to the staircase.

  
_How many other men has she done this with? How many men since he was last here?_

_No, don't think about that._

  
Instead, Bill thinks about the last time he was walking up Virginia's staircase, in wetter clothes, peeling layers of clothing off Virginia, and the intensity of their lovemaking. Bill touches himself through his trousers with his free hand, encouraging the twitch in his cock to grow more into full-blown arousal.

  
Once they're in the bedroom, Virginia busies herself by removing her earrings, watch, and shoes in front of the bureau. Bill takes note that she's changed, well, almost everything. The wallpaper has been replaced and furniture has been rearranged, but what he notices the most is she has a completely different bed. An oak bed frame has taken the place of the dark green one, and the tan comforter has been changed to a baby blue one.

  
_Good._

  
Bill appears at Virginia's shoulder and Virginia looks at him through the mirror and gives him the smallest, reassuring smile. He wants to touch her but hesitates for a moment because the anticipation that seems to be thrumming in the space between their two bodies is amplifying everything going on with his nerves.

  
The smell of her perfume though is heady and he can't help but close his eyes and stick his nose to the back of her skull and deeply inhale. He tries to get lost in her, bringing his hands to her breasts and pushing his hips against her's. Virginia lets out a soft sigh and her right arm reaches up to run a hand through his hair as he works on moving her dress zipper down. He puts his mouth on the juncture between her neck and shoulder as he removes the dress down from her torso. However, Virginia turns around before he can start sliding it down her body and the gleam in her eyes tells him to obey her. Her hand mindlessly runs up his chest and Bill wonders if she's aware of the effect she has on him. By the way he lets her guide him to sit on the edge of the bed without a protest, she must know. While Bill eagerly shrugs out of his taupe sports coat and tosses it to the side, Virginia shimmies out of her dress. When she starts to undo her garter belt and pulls her underwear and pantyhose down, Bill can't help but stroke himself again, and the front of his trousers are getting uncomfortably tight.

  
Bill's eyes widen a little when Virginia moves to straddle him, her hands gripping his shoulders, and he grunts once he feels the warmth and wetness settle over his still-trapped cock. Her bra is still on though, and Bill urgently brings his hands up to undo the clasp in the back, pulling the straps off and down her arms.

  
_God..._

  
Her nipples are stiff and darkened, and the way that Virginia straightens her back and sort of offers them up is all the encouragement he needs. He brushes his thumb over her right nipple before enveloping the other with his mouth. He can hear the small sound of Virginia's lips parting and once she rocks her hips forward against his crotch, Bill lets out a low moan. His tongue swirls and swirls around her nipple before he sucks hard on it and pulls his mouth away, and he appreciates the way her breath hitches.

  
Bill can feel Virginia starting to peel down his suspenders. "I want you inside of me," she breathes and that sentence is what causes his ears to ring, and he can sense the blood pounding straight down to the base of his spine. Virginia starts on his shirt buttons as Bill leans back on his forearms to give her more room. Her actions are too controlled though and she's going much too slow for his liking so it's only a few seconds before he moves his hands back up and helps her, fumbling needily at the buttons, and Bill catches the small smirk that appears on Virginia's face.

When she shoves his shirt back and down, her nails slightly scratch at his chest, and it's almost irritating that every little thing she does causes a maelstrom in his nerves. Bill misses the contact between their hips as she lifts herself up to unbutton his trousers and tug them down along with his boxers. It's relieving when his hard cock springs free and it feels even better when Virginia grasps it and aligns it with her entrance before sinking down on it, both of them exhaling at the same time.

  
Bill buries his face into her neck and screws his eyes shut, focusing on the area where they're joined together. She wraps an arm around his back, another around the nape of his neck, and starts rocking in earnest. Bill was curious when Virginia's desperation would finally come out, and here it is. It takes a moment but soon Virginia is bucking against him in a rhythm that can only be described as frantic. She's huffing against his ear, soft mewls coming out every once in awhile when he manages to hit a certain spot in her.

  
There's a bubbling need to take control -- to flip her tiny frame down onto the mattress and _fuck_ her.

  
_Instead, she's the one fucking me._

  
The thought alone makes his balls tighten more and Bill knows it won't be long until he finishes.

  
"Are — are you close?" Bill manages to stutter out. Virginia doesn't break her rhythm and Bill wants to tell her to slow down but it's becoming harder to speak, to concentrate, when he's distinctly aware of the texture of her skin and the obscene sounds their bodies are making together. He faintly hears her say a breathy "Yes" but Bill makes the mistake of opening his eyes and glancing into the full-length mirror that's in the corner of her bedroom. The sight he's faced with would've made him have an out-of-body experience if he weren't so deep inside her, the heat and wetness sliding over and over him and forcing him to remain present. But looking at them in the mirror — Virginia's hips rolling and seeing the crease of her spinal column move so fluidly — is the tipping point for him and he can't hold the aching coil back any longer.

  
His hand that he's putting his weight on shoots up to cup her jaw so he can hold her in place as he presses a bruising kiss to her lips, his groans muffled against her mouth as he shoots inside her. She's still grinding her pubis down on him, and luckily for his pride, he can feel her tense up, her walls clenching down on his still sensitive cock immediately after. It's enough to make him see stars. She parts her lips just enough for Bill to slip his tongue in for a sloppy, passionate kiss, tracing the inside of her mouth with the tip of his tongue.

  
They're both breathing hard when they finally part and Virginia's body is sticky with sweat, strands of her dark brown hair stuck in some small clumps on the side of her face. Bill does his best to push them back into place with his finger and the soft expression Virginia gives him makes his still rapidly beating heart swell in a way he can't describe.

  
Virginia's hand dips down between their bodies and she helps him pull out with a wet noise as she moves to stand up, the back of her thighs slightly stuck to his own due to the mingling of their sweat. Once Virginia moves off of him, her frame disappears into the bathroom and Bill takes the moment to stand up and pull his boxers, which are still trapped around his ankles, up. He moves around the bed, rearranging some of the pillows to pull back the sheets. Bill didn't know how long he was staying, but he was at least hoping for a round two like they customarily have at the Park Plaza.

  
_Maybe the rules are different here._

  
There's a flush of the toilet followed by a rush of water from the sink, and Virginia comes out of the bathroom with her hair a little more kempt and wearing the same floral pattern robe that she wore years ago the last time he was here.

  
"I'm going downstairs for a glass of water; would you like one?"

  
It's a question he wasn't expecting to hear.

  
Bill clears his throat, "Uh, no, thank you."

  
His heartbeat hasn't slowed down and he has to wipe his sweaty palms on his boxers. He's Dr. William Masters — he's been in more stressful situations than this, like performing life-or-death surgery or walking along the wing of an airplane and jumping off. And yet...Virginia Johnson has him reduced to a teenage boy on his first date; unsure of what to do, what to say, or how to act.

  
He does his best to lay down on her bed and look natural and comfortable as Virginia appears back in the room with the glass of water in her hand, sipping it. She sets it down on the nightstand and nonchalantly takes off her robe. There's readjustment with limbs and the sheets as Virginia finally lays down on her side, resting her head on his chest, and slowly snaking an arm around his stomach. This wasn't exactly a new experience, but Bill doesn't think he'll ever get used the way his stomach flutters whenever Virginia does this on her own will.

  
Bill tries to focus on calming his beating heart, and he notices that it eventually gets in tune with the stroking of his thumb on Virginia's bicep, low and steady.

  
_Where did that frenzied Virginia come from?_   He wants to ask her.

  
Instead, he settles on, "Do you remember those quacks down on the first floor, who ran that Communist headquarters office?"

  
Virginia's chuckle vibrates through his chest cavity and it's like a warm jar of honey being poured that settles straight into his sternum. "Yes, the man in charge looked like Rasputin."

  
Bill genuinely smiles. Virginia lifts her head and looks at him, "What made you decide to buy office space there, with Rasputin just a few floors down?"

  
"Because I wasn't scared of them. Most of them looked ridiculous." Bill's eyebrows furrow and he tilts his head in mock thought, "Do you think that's what Khrushchev's advisors look like?"

  
Virginia laughs again and rests her head back down. "And did you see Khrushchev's picture in the paper this morning? I think you're taller than him, Virginia."

  
"I thought you believed that it was more about substance than appearance," Virginia replies, her tone suddenly sober.

  
"Well, my point is...I don't want you to be afraid, Virginia. We'll — we'll be fine." He squeezes her shoulder to reassure her and makes the bold move to intertwine his fingers with her hand that's hung over his stomach.

_And if we're not, then we're here with each other, at least..._

  
"Then I suppose it's a good thing that the U.S. dispatched Gustav with the radioactive pen to assassinate Khrushchev all the way back in 1958."

  
"Wha--? Oh." Bill huffs out a breath. "Yes, his mission should almost be completed, don't you think? The President is relying on him."

  
There's an odd feeling of contentment that settles in the pit of Bill's stomach, but he likes it. So much so that it makes him want to rest his eyes, just for a moment...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a bit longer than expected because it turned out to be longer than I planned. Hope you enjoyed!  
> P.S. Lizzy Caplan would actually be taller than Khrushchev.


	3. October 24, 1962

It's dark. The ceiling is unrecognizable. The bed is too big. There's a body next to him.

  
A sense of panic washes over Bill until he remembers where he is — in Virginia's house, in her bed. Virginia. He's lying on his back and a simple tilt of his head to the right reveals Virginia's form, curled up on her side and facing him. Once his pupils adjust to the darkness, he sees her face more clearly. The smallest smile comes to Bill's face when he sees that her lips are parted and if he tunes his ears closely enough, he can hear the soft breaths that come in and out. In a way, Virginia looks smaller, younger, like this and not at all like a 37-year-old woman. 

  
_What time is it?_

 _  
_ Bill lifts himself up on his elbow to peer past Virginia and tries to make out where the hands are on her clock: 12:47.

  
_Shit._

  
The bed is warm though, and the heat waves that are emanating from Virginia's body are even warmer. It's as if invisible vines are wrapping around his limbs, urging him to stay, against reason. Surely Libby and the children are asleep by now so no one is there to notice his absence. What difference would it make if he stayed just a little longer?

  
But there's another scenario that Bill thinks of; that involves Virginia waking up and being angry with him.  
"I didn't say that you could spend the night," she'd probably hiss before throwing the sheets off and impatiently shoving his discarded clothes into his arms before kicking him out. It was an imaginary scenario but his cheeks burned with embarrassment nonetheless. And just like that, his chances of spending the evening at her house again instead of the hotel would evaporate as quickly as his dignity.

  
_Don't give her the upper hand in this._

  
It's disappointing but perhaps he should play his cards right and leave after all. Bill takes one last lingering glance at Virginia and tries to commit the image to his long-term memory.  
Gingerly, he does his best to silently remove the tangled sheets around him and wiggle his body to the foot of her bed. He hunches over and tries to feel around in the dark for his pants and button-up shirt, scratching at the carpet blindly. He finds his shirt before his pants so he works on sliding his arms through each sleeve, trying to shed his sleepiness through pure focus.

  
There's a rustling of sheets and a sharp inhalation behind him.

  
_Don't wake up. Don't wake up._

  
"Bill?" Virginia questions drowsily. He feels the bed shift under Virginia's weight as she sits herself up.

  
"What are you doing?"

  
Bill attempts to sound nonchalant and keeps his back to her before murmuring, "Don't worry, it's late. I'll see you at the clinic in the morning."

  
He gets to the third button on the bottom of his shirt before he senses Virginia moving towards him. Then, her hand is where his shoulder blades meet, and the shiver that runs down to the base of his spine makes him sit up straighter. Suddenly, re-buttoning his shirt doesn't seem so important anymore.

  
"Stay," she whispers and it sounds dangerously akin to a siren's call, and Bill is no Greek hero.

  
Virginia places her lips on his right earlobe before slipping her arms around his navel and undoing the buttons he managed to get. A pool of heat starts to gather in the pit of his stomach but in a peculiar way, there's nothing sexual in Virginia's movements. By the time she starts to peel down his shirt again, Bill realizes he already made his decision once she uttered that one word.

  
He turns his head to look into her eyes, admiring the way the crescent moon outside her window still manages to illuminate and give a soft glow to her face. Bill swallows the lump in his throat before nodding slowly. Their heads are soon reunited with their pillows, but Virginia soon turns over on her side, facing away from him. Bill wonders if there's any instrument that would be able to measure the vibrations between their bodies, the constant urge that makes him want to touch her and also leaves him flummoxed.

  
He lets his hand hover over her hip before letting it hesitantly rest on top of it. And Virginia actually moves into his touch — she shifts her hips back and the reciprocation makes Bill pull her closer and hesitantly tuck his face into her hair, trying to feel out the invisible boundaries that constantly changed between them.

  
This isn't something he's ever done with Libby or anyone, really. There were a few times, early in their relationship and during their honeymoon, where Libby tried to initiate embracing in their hotel bed. It made Bill uncomfortably hot and itchy and the memory makes him grimace. As soon as they moved in together, he insisted on having separate beds for that reason, and he had to pretend not to see the disappointment that flashed in his wife's eyes. Although, Bill reflects, he had never wanted to touch Libby beyond what was required as his husbandly duties. But with Virginia...he wanted to be near her, always.

  
They lay there for some time and Bill wants to say something but doesn't. It's as if they're challenging each other in a game of "who will fall asleep first" and his competitive nature makes him want to win, naturally. The loser puts themselves in a vulnerable state. Bill's eyelids become heavy as stones though and as the allure of sleep pulls him closer and closer, he notes that he never heard Virginia's breathing turn slow and deep. For once, it's a challenge that Bill doesn't mind losing.

 

* * *

 

 

The fierce and flaming twinge in his cock is what causes Bill to stir awake this time. Virginia's room is painted in light blue, so it must be before sunrise still. As his brain begins processing where all his limbs are, he realizes that sometime during the night, their legs became entangled and Bill is very nearly lying on top of Virginia. Her left knee is hiked up near her stomach, while Bill's own left leg managed to become tucked in between both of her's, while his arm (and half of his chest) is hung over Virginia's partially overturned body. But what's impossible to ignore is his hardness pushed against her rear.

  
Bill knows it's a natural thing to wake up with erections, but he was rock hard. It's a surprise that he didn't just orgasm in his sleep. When he tries to re-adjust his torso so that he's not completely crushing her body, his hips can't help but move in the struggle. The small amount of friction for his cock is enough to make Bill grunt. There are only two, flimsy layers that separate their skin: the linen from his boxers and the chiffon fabric of Virginia's robe. Then a confounding question comes to Bill's mind: is it normal for a man to wake up in the morning and have sex with his partner?

  
In Bill's own experiences, sex was reserved for the nighttime. It's just the way circumstances worked out.

 

_Surely Virginia wouldn't mind..._

  
He had to do this right and make sure Virginia wouldn't ever regret inviting him to stay the night. Bill decides he'll use his mouth on her — she always immensely enjoyed when he did that and it would guarantee that she wouldn't feel like some broodmare.

"Virginia," he softly says, putting his hand on her shoulder and lightly shaking it.

  
Virginia does a sharp inhalation and mumbles, "Hm?" before opening her eyes. Bill responds by brushing his lips along her jawline and planting a kiss at the top, before lazily jerking his hips against her backside.

  
"Oh." Understanding what Bill wants, Virginia slightly parts her legs.

 

Bill's arm snakes in between Virginia's legs, gliding his fingers between her folds before using his middle and pointer finger to massage her clit in a slow, scissoring motion. Her head turns to the side and Bill kisses her properly, trying to keep his movements controlled, as Virginia breathes a "yes, yes" into against his mouth, trailing down into his throat, through his body, and straight to the ache in his core. Bill mouths at Virginia's neck and he can't help but moan when Virginia starts grinding herself against Bill's hand.

  
His balls get tighter and he quickly pushes himself up, swinging Virginia's right leg over his waist so he's sitting on his back legs in front of her. They lock eyes and Virginia stares at him expectantly, her hands parting her robe to the side so her body is completely revealed to him, like some kind of offering.

  
His erection makes a tent in his white boxers and he has to squeeze himself so it doesn't end too soon. The pastel colors of blue and pink from dawn give Virginia's room an otherworldly feeling and somehow makes her eyes look bluer than they already are and her skin milky. She's ready and it would be so easy to pull down his boxers and slip inside of her. He has to smack his resolve back into place before it fades entirely.

  
Bill's determination grows more the lower his head goes and he splays his body against the lower end of the bed and the confinement helps quell his desire enough to focus. He starts by hooking his hands around her drawn-up legs and kissing and sucking rough on the skin on her inner thigh before grazing his teeth. Her body visibly shudders when he nuzzles his unshaven cheek along her delicately soft skin. There was a mutual agreement long ago to not leave marks on each other, but when Bill hears the patterns of her breath and the way it hitches, he decides he doesn't care anymore.

  
The smell of her arousal is intoxicating and he wants nothing more than to keep drawing out moans from her. Without further teasing, he languidly licking upwards against her folds and her hips stutter forward involuntary into his face.

  
"Bill," Virginia moans, and it decidedly sounds better to Bill than any birds chirping in the morning.

  
Bill appreciates the sort of power this act gives him — how he can push sounds out of Virginia every time he swirls his tongue or sucks on the sensitive bundle of nerves. It's one of the few instances where Bill can make Virginia feel as desperate as he does.

  
Virginia's left hand grips a fistful of Bill's hair, lightly pushing him down. He growls against her skin and Virginia peeks down and sees Bill's hips slowly gyrating against the bed. Bill happens to look up at the same time, and the view combined with another well-timed flick of his tongue is what sends her over the edge.

  
Virginia's hips start slightly thrusting against Bill's mouth, thighs softly squeezing his head, and when he pins her hips in place against his face, it earns him a whine that makes his balls ache even more.  
He ponders the probability of a nuclear bomb hitting St. Louis at this moment.

  
_...There are worse situations to die in than with my head between Virginia's thighs..._

  
There is no nuclear explosion at the moment though, and when Bill spreads her legs and crawls up to kiss her, hastily and desperately shoving the front of his boxers down with one hand, he's certain that if the world ends now then he'd rather be inside her.

 

* * *

 

 

It's 4:47 by the time Bill is bending over to pick up his briefcase that was left by the door the previous night. Virginia's figure is a ghost behind him, standing on the bottom step of the stairs. Bill ticks off his possessions in his head, making sure he hasn't forgotten anything. He feels for his bowtie and remembers that he just left it hanging over his neck, rather than fastening it. Finally, he turns to Virginia.

  
"Um..." Bill clears his throat then offers, "I'll see you soon."

  
"Bill, wait." He turns back around, perhaps more eagerly than he would have liked.

  
Virginia uncrosses her arms and steps down from the stairs, taking two steps to stand in front of Bill.

  
Nervous anticipation builds up in Bill but it's all for naught. Virginia's hand reaches up towards his head and he can feel her parting some of his hair and smoothing it down. All the while, Bill is staring at her intently and tries to force down the wave of emotion he's feeling.

  
"There. Better." Virginia smiles.

  
The emotion spills over though, and Bill can't help himself. He leans in and kisses her quickly before she has time to rebuke him and, just as quickly, he turns his heel and makes his escape out the door.

  
Bill trods down the sidewalk to his car, shivering, and pulling his sports jacket tighter. Libby should still be sleeping, even after the twenty-minute drive it takes to get home.

  
_Home. That's an ironic way to describe it._

  
Sometimes Bill feels so out of place in the house he calls "home". The only way he feels like he's not a visitor in someone else's life is if he works on something from the clinic.

  
But if for whatever reason, Libby is somehow awake, he'll just explain to her that Virginia left earlier than him and he accidentally fell asleep while working late in the night. Libby stopped questioning his excuses long ago.

  
Bill reaches his car and rubs the dew off his windshield before getting in and immediately turning on the heater. He switches on the radio and "Ruby" by Ray Charles is on the radio again. Strange. The automated cycle of songs must've already replayed itself. Instead of turning it off, Bill hums low and deep with Ray Charles on his drive.

 

Bill fumbles with the key to his house before unlocking it and stepping in. There's always a sense of discomfort in the air when Bill is here. John and Jenny are no longer infants that scream and throw fits, but no matter how much Libby tries, the house seems to be in a constant state of chaos and noise. It's always remarkable to Bill how, when he and Virginia are alone together, it feels like a different world — a world that only they can enter and are privy to. Bill's lips twitch nearly into a smile when Libby catches him off guard.

  
"You're home, finally." Her voice is hoarse, perhaps from sleep. Libby is sitting at the dinner table in a nightgown, her legs and arms crossed, and a freshly-lit cigarette dangling from two fingers. There are no lights on, and clouds have darkened the sunrise. There's an indescribable feeling of a pin needling the back of his neck.

  
Bill walks and sets his briefcase down on his desk. "I didn't see you there, Lib. Did you just get up?"

  
"No, I couldn't sleep."

  
"Oh." Bill faces her, digging his hands into his pockets. It's only now when he realizes the air is stale with cigarette smoke and he desperately wishes he was anywhere but here.

  
"Er — well, I didn't sleep too well either. Virginia left the clinic earlier than me and I ended up falling asleep at my desk. My spine feels terrible."

  
Libby doesn't say anything, only blows smoke into the air. Bill stands near his desk awkwardly, the taste of Virginia still lingering in his mouth.

  
"I'd come kiss your cheek but my breath must be near as bad. I didn't have a toothbrush stowed in my desk," he lightly chuckles, trying to change Libby's mood. Bill averts his eyes from her and focuses on the sink. He's happy to do something to get out of her scrutiny, so he walks over to rinse his mouth with water. As he moves past Libby, he notices how tired her eyes look — the gray bags under her eyes and lines around her mouth that seemed to have appeared over night.

  
"I want to talk to you about something," Libby says as he's tilting his head under the faucet. The water in his mouth turns into liquid dread. Bill swishes it around before spitting it out into the drain.

  
"Could it wait until tonight? I came back for a shower, a shave, and maybe a piece of toast before I go back."

  
"I know you're eager to get back, but this won't take long. In fact, how long this takes depends entirely on you." He can't see the expression on her face. Bill steps around the counter, wondering if he's walking towards his doom, and stands in front of Libby. Bill gives her a puzzled look.

  
"I want another child," she states calmly, almost matter-of-factly. There's a sense of relief in Bill's stomach, but it's immediately replaced by unease.

  
"Well, we have the boy and the girl. That's the perfect ratio, I thought. Three is an odd number."

  
Libby glances at him, takes another drag off her cigarette, her cheeks hollowing, before slowly blowing the smoke out.

  
"Perhaps. But sometimes this house can get so lonely without you here, since you're off, "Libby gestures her hand vaguely, ashes from the cigarette breaking off, missing the ash tray, and falling to the floor, "working most of the time. Whatever that entails. And both the children are in school now."

  
Bill stays silent, staring down at his feet.

  
"I've made up my mind, Bill." Libby dabs her cigarette in the ash tray, twisting it forcefully a few times.

  
Libby softly clears her throat and purses her lips, "And having another child won't make such a drastic difference. I've managed just fine on my own with Jenny and Johnny."

  
She pushes herself up from the table and strides past him to their bedroom. Bill realizes, with a sense of sadness, that he no longer cares to muster up an effort to go after her. But if giving Libby another child will make her remain oblivious to his affair with Virginia, he'll gladly make that sacrifice.

 

* * *

 

 

Sitting at his desk in the clinic, Bill is starting to wonder if what happened with Virginia was just a dream. It wouldn't be the first time that a dream of Virginia was so life-like. They arrived at the clinic at the same time and gave curt nods to each other and she looked no different than any other day. Virginia started discussing today's patients with him in the elevator as if nothing was out of the ordinary. And perhaps nothing was.

  
Virginia barely even batted an eye when she walked past Lester watching the news on a TV, about how the President still hasn't given the all-clear. Lester was muttering something to Betty about a rumor he heard from one of his friends who was in the air force. She didn't break stride when Lester worriedly whispered that his friend said the country was on DEFCON 3 alert. That rumor even made Bill reassess the danger that they could be in.  
But there was something else that was more pressing.

  
In a juvenile way, Bill couldn't stop thinking about how just a few short hours earlier, his mouth was all over Virginia's body, in places that would be considered unseemly for a colleague's mouth to be. Every time she walked past his office and he saw her face or even glanced at her legs, there were involuntary images of him thrusting needily into her that morning that would consume his retinas. It was driving him mad, and for the first time, made him thankful that their offices were separated by a wall. Maybe this was why couples mainly have sex at night.

  
Then, a soft knock on the black door that conjoins their offices. Bill sits up straighter.

  
"Yes?"

  
Virginia lets herself in and Bill tries to avoid looking at her. Without saying a word, she walks over to his desk and quietly sets a key down in front of him... not the Park Plaza key. This one is different: it's a house key.

  
"You left your coat."

  
"Did I?" Bill's eyebrows furrow as he tries to remember. He really tried not to forget anything. How could he have forgotten his coat? It dawns on him that he never took it off the rack, perhaps as a result of his early morning haze.

  
"Yes and I thought it'd be best if you came over tonight to get it, and we could look over the Elwells' case together since their's is particularly puzzling."

  
Ah. A game.

  
Bill slides his hand over the key and then examines it. He turns it over and over.

  
Finally, Bill looks back up at Virginia through his glasses.

  
"Yes, I think that'll best suit our common interests."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things I had hoped to explain in this fanfiction that the series did not cover: how Bill and Virginia started sleeping over at her house, and how Libby managed to wheedle another kid out of Bill/why she would want a third child while she was seeing Robert. Not to mention how devastating it would be for Libby to have Bill prefer to spend "the end of the world" with Virginia and how that could contribute to her depression we see in season 3.  
> I also thought it would be rather ironic for the truth to be that Virginia actually invited and desired Bill to stay at her house as a result of her own loneliness, rather than ingratiating himself, as Virginia claimed.


End file.
